<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Garreg Mach Brothel by utterly_indulgent</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25938700">Garreg Mach Brothel</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/utterly_indulgent/pseuds/utterly_indulgent'>utterly_indulgent</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Garreg Mach Brothel [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Brothels, F/F, F/M, Fraternities &amp; Sororities, M/M, Multi, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-Indulgent, Sex Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:02:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,827</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25938700</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/utterly_indulgent/pseuds/utterly_indulgent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to Garreg Mach University, one of the most renowned institutes of education in all of Fodlan and home of the mysterious Garreg Mach Brothel. What awaits you on campus, just beyond the doors of the Fine Arts Fraternity? You'll just have to see for yourself.</p>
<p>This is an incredibly self-indulgent, smutty fic that I wrote for myself. Headcanons are mine and mine alone, everything from degrees to kinks and relationships are just to appease me. Enjoy!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Garreg Mach Brothel [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882531</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Madame</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Welcome to the first chapter of Garreg Mach Brothel! Much like my Cirque du Caprice story, this will be a lot of foundation building for the world and how the characters exist in them. Also, there's tons of sex. Please enjoy yourself and known that any moments of a reader proxy, feel free to project yourself there, that's what it's for!</p>
<p>All characters are appropriately aged for these activities, with the youngest ones being 18.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Rumor has it that if you attend Garreg Mach University, in the heart of Fodlan, you may hear rumors of a secret club of sorts on campus. If you go to the Fine Arts Fraternity (FAF) house during their ‘show nights’ and stay a little after, you may find yourself in the company of the mysterious Garreg Mach Brothel. The ‘brothel’ was said to be the brainchild of the current University President, Miss Rhea Seiros, while she attended school here. It originally was just the performances weekly, with tips collected for the students that later turned into tickets </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> tips. Somewhere along the way, though, students began inviting classmates (and the brave few faculty) into their room with the promise of sex in exchange for money.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Garreg Mach Brothel stayed in operation for Miss Seiros’ entire college career, where she came to be known as the first Madame. Various whistleblowing students and teachers attempted to get it closed down, but found themselves floundering in The Madame’s excellent persuasive skills. Not a single worker or client was outed for the years she attended, but the Brothel dissolved entirely after she graduated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fast forward many years later, Rhea Seiros is named the new President of Garreg Mach, with her dear friend and previous classmate Seteth Cichol named the new Provost for the school a few years after. With Miss Rhea’s watchful eye on the school again, the Brothel has begun to find its footing once more. This time, lead by an all new Madame.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You had heard the rumors when you first mentioned wanting to attending Garreg Mach University. Supposedly, the current FAF ran a </span>
  <em>
    <span>brothel</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of all things, right out of their house. You didn’t believe it then and you were doing your best to remain skeptical as you approached the glittering, shimmering frat house. It was a three-story home, all beautiful red-brick and simple, square windows. The house was lined with soft white christmas lights, giving it a slightly silly, slightly elegant look. The curtains in each window were a lush red color, complimenting the dusty red of the bricks and the eggshell white of the window frames. They were drawn closed, which made one of your classmates nudge you in the side and wiggle his eyebrows stupidly. You laugh and give him a shove, but your mind can’t help but linger on the uniformly closed curtains.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Music was thrumming as you approach the house. A sign on the front door read ‘Night Out, around back!’, with an arrow guiding your group to the small ticket line at the gate to the backyard. A man no older than you is sitting at a table with a small lockbox, smiling wide from under his flat-brimmed baseball cap as he greets guests and exchanges their bills for a bright green wristband. You think you recognize this guy, if only by the hat. His name is Gate, if you remember correctly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gate greets you and your friends warmly, letting you all know that the headlining performers tonight is the band ‘Those That Slither in the Dark’. You each trade a five-dollar bill for a wristband and enter the backyard. The privacy fencing that encloses the backyard is laced with blue and more white string lights, flashing softly all the way around. Directly inside the entrance is a ‘bar’ of sorts. Night Out is a BYOA sort of setup, but the large, dark-skinned man behind the bar is happy to mix drinks, pour sodas or juice, and, on occasion, serve actual food right at the bar. Tonight it seems there are just finger foods on the counter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stage is on the opposite end of the backyard from the back of the house itself. It’s small, given that it lives in a backyard, but the white-haired woman on the stage was having no trouble performing with her ribbons and hoops to the bass-heavy music. There’s a circle of about 7-8 tables around the outer edge of the standing audience, for people to leave drinks and and plates of food, or to just sit. There are more chairs near the bar and along the opposite end of fence, but very few people are sitting, as the ribbon performer is bowing to a roaring crowd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You hadn’t had anything to drink, but that didn’t stop the night from going by like a whirlwind. Those The Slither in the Dark tore the stage up, you and your friends thrashing with the rest of the crowd. The headbanging and slamming into other audience members left you dizzy and pumped with adrenaline. You only dimly remember grabbing a drink, that handsome bartender resting a large hand on your shoulder to ask if you were okay. And you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> than okay, honestly. After weeks of studying and classes, this was the best you’d felt in a long while. His smile was so warm and for a moment, you almost wished the brothel rumors were true.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t long before you realize just how true they are. Somewhere in the chaos of getting ready to go, your friends are pulling you along towards the backdoor of the house. There’s a small fold of bills in your hand and you’re talking to…. another Gate? Whatever, you agree to whatever it is he’s saying and hand him the bills. Your friends are laughing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> laughing…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And suddenly you’re not. Suddenly you’re sitting on the most plush comforter you’ve ever sat on, in a room lit only by large white pillar candles. Again, you weren’t drunk earlier, but you’re most certainly sober and aware of your surroundings now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> was a room meant for Garreg Mach Brothel. And not just any room, no. This room, with its plush bed set inside four mahogany posts with sheer, glittering silver canopy fabric draped around it, with the candles, the dark painted walls to give that feel of being in the den of something so powerful and ravenous, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this room</span>
  </em>
  <span> was meant for one person and one person only.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Madame of Garreg Mach Brothel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door to the room comes open; the light from the hallway creating an elegant silhouette of a woman. She’s tall, her full wavy hair bouncing ever so slightly as she walks into the room. Her hour-glass figure draws your attention to her hips as they sway. You lick your lips almost instinctively, though you’re unsure if it’s from hunger or from nerves. She closes the door with a soft click and your eyes have to readjust to the candlelight. You follow her shape across the room as she intermittently blocks out candles. Her hands are on her stomach and you can her the soft ‘click click’ of snaps coming undone. The cincher she’d been wearing slides around her sides and she holds it up as if to show off, before dropping it down into her laundry hamper. She turns to face the bed and crosses the room. Your palms are sweaty and your stomach is doing excited little flips. A pale hand parts the canopy, the fabric sliding over her skin making a sound so impossibly soft.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello there, first timer.” Her voice is soft, warm, and unmistakable. Even if you’ve never been to the Brothel or even to the FAF house, anyone who’s been to a Garreg Mach Theater production knows this voice, “What shall I call you tonight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You can’t speak for a moment as Dorothea Arnault’s visage properly comes into view. Piercing green eyes framed by those full chestnut brown waves. A soft smile that made you feel at ease. The off-the-shoulder top she wore gave just the most teasing glimpses of her pristine skin between the forest of wavy hair. This was a woman that many a person had lusted after. She was the diva of the theater program and the top soloist in choir. She was easily one of the most talented, beautiful women in the whole university.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And you were staring, mouth agape.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dorothea lets the silence hang for a moment, before giving the softest giggle and crawling up into bed with you. It’s only then, with her weight on the soft bed with you, that you snap out of your panicked thoughts and introduce yourself. When she repeats your name back to you, the sound is like melted chocolate, warm and inviting. You could </span>
  <em>
    <span>swear</span>
  </em>
  <span> there was magic in the way she said it. She tells you not to be nervous, that she’ll be gentle with you. You tell her, with a shudder that makes you think you </span>
  <em>
    <span>might</span>
  </em>
  <span> be lying, that you’re not a virgin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She giggles again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You spend the next several hours with Dorothea, hands and mouths exploring each other. Her perfume is sweet and intense, but you never seem to catch the bitter taste of it on your tongue as you kiss along her shoulders. You marvel as the velvety fabric of her top is pulled up and over her torso, revealing her soft, round breasts. They sag under their own weight ever so slightly and the golden eagle hanging from one of her nipple piercings twinkled in the diffused candlelight. It was then that you were treated to a full view of her tattoo, a tendril of thorned vines wrapping up her left arm. It came to a strange stop at the top of her shoulder and you suspect a flower of some sort was supposed to go there, but you don’t have long to think about that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even when she moans, Dorothea is nothing but a star performer. It’s nothing like the short, sometimes shrill moans of the women in the videos you’ve watched or the real, guttural tones of women you’ve been with before. No, she sounds like she’s singing, even during sex and you want to draw even more of the sound out of her. You work harder, diving down between her legs and eating ravenously. Every inch of her skin has a perfect salty sweetness to it and you seem to just crave more and more of it as the night goes on. Her fingers twist into your hair and you chance a look up at her. Her eyes are half-lidded, chest heaving as she begs for you to keep going. You’re reinvigorated to appease her, to serve her. The Madame Arnault.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You kiss her knee as you pull it up over your shoulder. Your hips move instinctively to bring you both to an orgasm that makes you see fireworks. She calls out your name and it rings through your whole body. A second orgasm hits you and you cry her name out as well, though yours is more feral and less… opera.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s rubbing your back as you lay, completely exhausted, on your stomach and contemplate if you hate your friends or if you owe them a lifetime worth of favors.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, sweetie, if you’ve got it in you, there’s time for another round,” she teases, “Or you’re welcome to just cuddle for your last hour.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You opt for a cuddle, because you’re not sure if your body could handle moving on its own for another hour. When you stumble out of the room and into the hall, you’re greeted by a handful of other students leaving other rooms. They all seem to be in good spirits, chatting casually with each other as the left. You’re feeling a little shy and hurry out ahead of them, fishing your phone out of your pocket and preparing to text your friends.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A large hand descends over your phone, closing around it and your hands softly. It spooks you and you look up to find the handsome bartender from the night before standing at the front door. His expression is soft, but serious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Brothel continues to operate,” he says, “Because its participants are careful with whom they speak to and how. Keep that in mind if you want to keep attending Night Out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You nod almost mechanically. The idea of not being able to see The Madame again feels like hot coals in your stomach. Terrible. You quickly put your phone away and smile up at the man before leaving the house. You’re excited to tell your friends, in as few words and details as possible, that you had a fine night.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Body Worship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The ever elusive Valentine is available tonight and you're just lucky enough to be the first person in line. What does the night hold for you? [featuring an AMAB guest]</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>If you were anywhere else on campus, you’d know those pink pigtails as Hilda Goneril, one of the strongest girls in all of Garreg Mach University. She’s the supposed hidden star of the ladies’ wrestling team, though anyone would say that she could outrank any boy on the men’s team. However, she rarely went on to the higher ranking competitions, usually opting out to perform with the campus or local theater groups, so there’s no telling if she’s as great as her teammates claim. That and, if you saw her walking around the school, decked out in jewelry and fashion she made herself, shimmering like a star even on a rainy day, you probably wouldn’t guess it yourself. She’s more like a model than a wrestler, you suppose, and you worry that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> how she wants everyone to perceive her. To underestimate her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every blue moon or so, Hilda Goneril takes a backseat and the one and only Valentine comes out to play. Tonight, you just so happen to catch her on the roster. Her name is written on the chalkboard behind Gate (or Gate’s brother?) in the brightest of pink chalk, surrounded by little hearts and stars. You thank your own stars that you moved back closer to the door before the end of the performances, there was no on else you wanted to see tonight but her. It’d been a long week of practice, with match after match kicking your ass apart. Coach never slows down, so neither does the team and neither do you. You’d heard from some of your teammates, through hushed whispers in the locker room, that Valentine was the girl to see when you’re feeling low from weeks of exercise and downtalk. You pay the fee and are handed a key, which is </span>
  <em>
    <span>also</span>
  </em>
  <span> decorated with pink stars and bunny keychains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s cute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You enter the bedroom before her and take in the scenery. It’s simple, with a few string lights strewn about the walls and ceiling, giving the room a soft, ambient glow. The carpet beneath your feet is soft, much softer than the fabric in the hallway. You almost groan at how soft it is under your feet as you take your shoes off and set them aside. There’s a TV on one wall, as well as a desk, a bed, and the biggest overstuffed couch you’ve ever seen. With only a moment of hesitation, you drop your sore body onto the couch with a sigh. It feels like it’s been ages since you laid anywhere soft, the bed in your dorm not even close to comparing to this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyelids feel heavy as you breathe in the soft scent of mint and rose lingering in the air. Part of you thinks, if this is all you paid for, then that would be fine. But the door opens softly and the sweetest, slightly lilting voice follows shortly after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my,” Valentine says, closing the door ever so gently behind her, “I hope I didn’t make you wait </span>
  <em>
    <span>too long</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She giggles and you can’t help but smile. You slowly open your eyes to look at her, drinking in the body conforming dress she’d flaunted tonight. Every curve of her body is on display, despite still being under all that fabric and all you can muster is an approving grunt. She smiles in return and takes her heels off, crossing the room and kneeling down. Her long fingers splay out over your chest as she speaks again, her voice sugary sweet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look so tired, I bet coach has been working you down to your bones,” she coos. You nod in agreement and she takes your hand, “Well, that’s no good, let’s get you out of these clothes and into the bath, a nice warm soak is exactly what these big, strong muscles need.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s your turn to laugh. You’ve never had anyone comment on your muscles before and it makes you feel both silly and appreciated. You worked hard for them, after all. Valentine leads you to the bathroom, which is just as beautiful as her room, decorated with plush mats that match the carpet in her bedroom, candles, soft towels, and a myriad of soaps and shampoos. She tells you sit on the edge of the tub, the large, jacuzzi-like thing already looking so inviting. She turns to light the candles and you realize that that was where the rose and mint was coming from. You also take a moment to admire the back side of her, realizing that, in addition to having a fantastically round ass, the tension of her legs as she reached for washcloths and soaps gave you a perfect view of muscles you would have never guessed at otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wow. Those legs could crush a watermelon, by which you mean your head. She sets everything down on the edge of the tub. Then, she pins her hair up in two messy buns. You go to take your shirt off and she swats your hand away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haven’t you done enough work already?” She asks softly, placing her hands on your waist. Her hands are soft and they caress every line and curve of your own body as she pushes your shirt up and away. There’s a moment where you consider the soft smell of orange on her, before the daunting realization of her breasts in your face hits you. She would have </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to have made this dress, nothing mass produced would have been able to fit so well, you’re sure. The shirt flutters to the ground and her hands are on your cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pink lips are on yours now, pressing gentle kisses as her hands travel down over your neck and shoulders. Her lips kiss with no hunger. They taste just as sweet as the scents that are spinning about your head. She moves at an even pace, steady, with her fingers splayed out so she can study each muscle flexing and relaxing under her palms. There’s such reverence in it all. Her fingers roam over your arms and her voice, light as a feather, remarks on how strong and tense your biceps feel. You instinctively ball your hands into fists so she can feel them more. A smile curls her lips before she takes her hands off you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The absence of her hands feels like you’ve been left with trails of lava down your skin. You want to reach out for her, but your arms feel too relaxed to do so. Instead, you follow her with your eyes as she leans over the edge of the tub to turn the water on. This time, you get a proper view of her arms, the closer one to you holding her up. Amazing, simply amazing. You would never be fooled by the glitter and glam again. This was a woman who could crush you and, honestly, you’re really starting to like the idea of that. A bath bomb is dropped into the water with a ‘plop’ and starts fizzing almost immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A rose petal bath bomb with epsom salt for your soreness,” she says, almost matter-of-factly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really like roses,” is all you can think to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” she replies, turning back to you, the playful smile never leaving her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you join me in the bath?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And have a chance to get closer to those muscles? Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She back to you now, kneeling down between your legs and working your pants off. You can’t hide your excitement as a shiver ripples through your body. Her hands push your pants down, fingers splayed again, but this time they curl in firmly, massaging the muscles of your thighs. A tired moan escapes your lips. For a moment after the moan, you could swear you saw the most sinister little look on Valentine’s face. You don’t get long to think about that as her hands grasp both your knees and pushes your legs apart. Despite already being naked, with your pants long since abandoned, you almost instinctively go to cover yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be shy, dear,” Valentine says. It sounds more like a command, but it’s so soft. You relent and are gifted with the sight of those perfect pink lips parting as she begins to lick at you. Her mouth on your cock sends you up and over. Instinct takes over properly this time; your hand clamps to her head, entangling in her soft pink hair. Without thinking, you go to pull her hair free of the buns. Her mouth, still busy, simply emits a pleased hum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look better with your hair down.” You mutter to her, before craning your neck back. Another, more invest moan is pulled from your throat. She’s amazing! The way her tongue and lips work together is unlike any other partner you’d ever had before. Part of you knows that no one will rank higher than Valentine and you don’t mind that at all. You’re unraveling quickly now. Her little kisses and licks turn ravenous, as does her expression. When you look down and see her, eyes dark and demanding, the words barely escape you in time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m- cu-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s no good, but she seems more than ready. Both your hands hold her head in place as your orgasm tenses every muscle in your body. The relaxation that came after was nothing like you’d ever experienced before. You could have fallen asleep right then and there if not for Valentine’s hand on your arm. She wipes her lips clean, smiling so mischievously at you. Her lipstick doesn’t smear, even a little bit. You admire that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, let’s get you in the tub before you pass out on me, hehe,” she says, brushing her hair back from her shoulders, “I’ll leave my hair down, but that just means you have to help me wash it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nod, that seems fair enough. You turn to dip your legs into the water, catching a few rose petals as you do so. The water is warm, maybe even a little hot, but it feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>so good</span>
  </em>
  <span> on your legs. How is it that everything about this woman was so comforting? You settle into the tub, sighing loudly as the water washes up over your body. When you turn to look at Valentine, she’s standing again and smiling. A smile crosses your face as well, as you seem well aware of what was coming next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a spin, she turns so you can see the back of the dress. It’s laced up the back, which explains why it fit her build so fantastically. You wonder for a moment if she needs help getting out of it, but she easily reaches back and begins to undo the ties. She let out the most pleased sigh as she pulled the ribbons free. The dress fell the floor with the kind of elegance you’d associate with curtains in steamy romance movies. It was perfect, if you were to be honest with yourself, though not as perfect as when she turned around to face you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you not wear underwear… regularly?” You ask, leaning on the edge of the tub as she approaches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you know how popular you are,” she explains, making a show of getting into the tub. The way the rose petals swirl around her strong legs is just so alluring, “you take shortcuts, I’m not afraid to say. It gets everyone to where they want to be a little quicker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little ‘oh!’ escaped her lips as settled into your lap, finding someone ready for round two, “Already?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got where I wanted to be a little quicker,” You give a playful shrug, reaching up to pull her down to you for another bunch of kisses. Her hands travel down your body again, angling your cock up between her lower lips. You hiss at the sensation as she lowers herself down over you. You’re thankful for the hazy clarity of the water, giving you a perfect view of her ass as she bounces on your cock. You both moan, your arms crossing behind her back as she buries her face against your neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hard to think about anything else, anything that might have been on your mind before you stepped into this room. Valentine’s pussy strokes the entire length of your cock, while her hands and mouth explore as much of your neck, chest, and arms as she can. Her moans are sharp and soft all at once, laced with little praises of “your cock feels so good” and “I love the way your arms flex as you </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck me.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Your head is reeling and you’re suddenly pushing her up. She gasps in delight, now sitting up as your hold her arms down on either side of her body. Your feet plant as firmly as you take control, thrusting up into her almost hard enough to threaten splashing water over the edge of the tub, though it never goes over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-you’re sup-posed to be -</span>
  <em>
    <span>ah, fuck-</span>
  </em>
  <span> r-relaxing!” She cries out, though the absolute lust drunk look on her face only goads you to keep going. Her breasts bounce with each buck and the flush of red caused by both the heat of the water and sex was quickly shading her beautiful porcelain skin, “I’m t-taking c-care of-of- </span>
  <em>
    <span>ooh, yes, baby! Fuck me harder! I’m so close!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take long, you can feel her squeezing down impossibly hard around you as her own orgasm latches down and drags you to your second orgasm of the night. You hastily sit up for the last few thrust, kissing her as hungrily as you can as you feel her shuddering. Your cock throbs as it pours cum into her again. You hold her tight you as you both ride out your orgasms into shivering afterglows. When you finally stop kissing her, she slumps against your chest, mouth still hanging open as she pants and gasps for air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, you both slide back into the water proper. Valentine recovers a lot faster than you expected, though she leaves her still firmly planted on your cock. She reaches up for one of the hand towels on a shelf over the tub and begins to wash and massage every part of you, “Well, I must say, now I can tell why our team does so well. You’ve got </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite</span>
  </em>
  <span> the stamina.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckle softly as you reach up to start wetting her hair to wash. She points to the set of bottles that had been jostled slightly during your session. The gold colored bottle is for her hair and it smells more earthy and it help cuts through all the other, sweeter smells barraging your senses. The actually being washed and praised part of the night is much quieter than earlier, even when you turn Valentine around to wash her hair more proper. You end up sitting both of you up on your knees and fuck her again. She’s gorgeous like this too, even with shampoo in her hair, giggling as you both try not to slip all over the tub. It doesn’t take away from how amazing she feels, the look of the soft curve of her hips as you grip and hold her tight to you for another orgasm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rinse each other off, between little kisses, and get out of the tub to dry off. This time, you take the chance to dry her off after she dries you and wraps her hair up in a towel. You lift her up onto the vanity counter, as she giggled with delight, and knelt down to return the oral service she’d given to you at the start of the night. These moans were more wild than the ones in the tub, less practiced as her strong legs pressed dangerously to your ears. She cums quickly, whimpering softly as you stand back up and lean in to kiss her. You carry her back to her bed and carefully, like laying a precious piece of art down, lay her out over the cool, soft sheets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have 15 minutes left, just so you know,” she purrs, eyes only half open as she plays with the towel tied around your waist, “In case you want to go ahead and get dressed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, Miss Valentine,” you reply, crawling into bed with her, “I’m a cuddler and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> pay for overnight. Now come here and let me hold you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s something both confused and sincere in her smile as she rolls over to curl up into your arms. Even without the body worship, this alone would make it all worth it.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for joining me for another chapter for Garreg Mach Brothel! I think the next few chapters are going to focus on some of the character-character interactions, instead of just character-guest interactions. I'd like for you to think of those chapters as prologues to their stand-alone stories that I'll be doing later.</p><p>If you liked this or any of my other works, please consider buying me a little coffee over at ko-fi.com/michearts, or check out any of my social medias at michearts.carrd.co!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>